


Love and Light and Vision

by theskywasblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Love, M/M, Sleeplessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:46:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a question he needs answered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Light and Vision

**Author's Note:**

> So I promised [](http://velvetina-belle.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**velvetina_belle**](http://velvetina-belle.dreamwidth.org/) Dean/Cas fic for her birthday up down and sideways, and I'd feel bad if I didn't provide; so even though I'm dubious of the quality of this....Happy early birthday anyhow!  Forgive me?

It was four in the morning, and Dean really wanted to know where he could go to register a complaint. Not about the shitty motel bed, or the dripping faucet in the bathroom or the people having noisy, uncomfortable-sounding sex on the other side of the wall – but about whoever the fuck thought it was fun to make him have to repeatedly redefine his entire life. There had to be some kind of cosmic hotline where he could at least leave a message, something like _this is Dean Winchester, you know, the guy you love to yank around like a cheap marionette? Stop. Okay? Just stop it._

It just wasn’t even fair at this point. Just when he thought he had it all figured out, the universe turned around and smacked him in the face.

 _”You have me confused with the other angel. You know – the one in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you?”_

Dean sucked back a groan of frustration and rolled over, taking the bulk of the motel bed’s scratchy blankets with him. On the other side of the room, Sam was sleeping like he didn’t have a goddamn care in the world. Dean felt like he was never going to sleep again, like he was never _ever_ going to be able to get those words out of his head.

The clock turned over to five a.m. and Dean pried himself out of bed, deciding fuck it – fuck Balthazar, fuck everything. He staggered through the neon-bleached darkness into the bathroom and shut the door before turning on the light; he didn't want it to wake Sam.

His face in the mirror resembled nothing so much as an old dish towel – limp and grey. He tried to tell himself it was the lighting; then he tried to convince himself that he didn't care. Neither was essentially true. Eventually, he sat down on top of the closed toilet lid, wiped his palms on the legs of his jeans, and started to pray.

"Cas? Listen dude, I know you're busy - but if you could spare two minutes, there's a question I really need to ask you."

Nothing. Dean was used to Cas' radio silence lately, but it wasn't something he was going to let go – because it wouldn't let _him_ go.

"C'mon Cas. I'll even settle for ninety seconds. Sixty. Anything."

The facet dripped. Dean gritted his teeth against the noise, feeling the vein in his temple pulse under the skin.

"Alright – ya know what – fine, I get it. You're busy fighting wars and busting heads and whatever else you do up there – but all I'm asking is a minute, and I don't see how that can be a lot to ask when I'm..."

He couldn't even finish the thought. He didn't know _what_ he was, except fucking exhausted and confused as hell.

"Ya know what Cas, just..."

"Yes, Dean?"

Dean didn't jump – he was too tired to go leaping out of his skin, and too hyper-aware of the prickling swirl of displaced air that marked Cas' arrival. The shower curtain shifted with the force of it as Dean lifted his head until he could lock eyes with Cas, standing over by the sink under the totally unflattering lights looking wrung out and maybe a little bit angry – and _Jesus-Motherfucking-Christ_ – the angel was in love with him.

“Why, Cas?” Something that was two parts confusion and one part guilt skittered across Cas’ face like a startled insect. “I mean seriously – of all the things...”

“Dean....I don’t understand what this is about.”

Dean stood up – fast. He couldn’t handle sitting down anymore, but there wasn’t much of anywhere to move. He scrubbed his hands over his face and resisted the urge to retreat into the bathtub. “Your buddy Balthazar spilled your little secret.”

Cas looked away. He was still shit at hiding what was going on in his head, even if Dean wasn’t exactly fluent in all his silences anymore.

“Dean – I...”

“Just tell me _why_ Cas, that’s all I want to know. It’s not like I’m a shining example of humanity for fuck’s sake. I’m an asshole and a killer and a...a fucking drunk most of the time – you _know_ me Cas – how the hell could you love me?”

Cas’ eyes went wide – bright and startled – for just an instant; and then all at once, he looked more relieved than startled. “I did not intend for you to find out this way.”

“How long?” Cas frowned, but Dean pressed ahead. He was a hunter, detail-oriented, and he wanted the time – the exact moment when he’d pulled the wings off an angel. There was something ridiculously important about that.

Cas took a long – probably unnecessary – breath and looked at Dean like he was counting out the seconds between each time he swallowed. “It is difficult for me to articulate time as you perceive it.”

Forever.

Shit.

“Why didn’t you _tell me_? I mean – at least after Sam was gone. Goddamn it Cas – I could have – I would...”

“Have asked me to stay.” Cas stood tall, and immovable, and it felt like he was filling up the tiny, filthy bathroom from wall to wall with the spread of invisible wings. “Yes, I know.”

“You _know_?” Dean’s stepped so close the tips of their toes were touching on the sticky floor, pushing right into Cas’ personal space like he belonged there. “All this time, and you _still_ didn’t say anything? It would have saved you and me – and hell, Lisa and Ben too – a lot of fucking heartache but you _didn’t say anything_? Why the fuck not?”

“You were vulnerable,” Cas answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Dean stood there with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water because he couldn’t even deny that. He’d been wrecked – utterly destroyed – and he would have clung to anything that would have let him escape that for even a second.

“You were heartbroken by Sam’s loss. I could not, in good conscience, put you in a position in which you might take action which would contradict the promise you had made to him.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean wanted to hit him, he really, truly did – but he didn’t want to break his hand. So he settled for digging his fingers into the lapels of Cas’ trenchcoat. “Cas you can’t – you can’t just go making those decisions for people!”

He stopped, swallowing hard, aware of the pitch of his voice rising, of Sam on the other side of the door, hopefully still sleeping. There would be no end to the shit he would say if he heard. Dean would have to live with it for the rest of his life.

“Just because you think you know how I’m going to answer, doesn’t mean I don’t get the chance to know what that answer’s gonna be for myself, dammit.”

Cas looked away, locking his eyes on the crumbling grout, all guilt and absolutely no subterfuge. “I know that Dean. I am sorry.”

“You’re _sorry_?”

“Is there another answer I should give?” Cas demanded, his temper crackling along the edges. “If I could go back, then perhaps I would make a different decision...”

Dean couldn’t help it – he laughed. The sound echoed off the close walls, sounding dangerously manic. “Considering a couple of days back, a certain angel-dick un-sank the most famous boat in history, you could go back if you really wanted to.”

Cas pressed his lips together; Dean was almost sure he sighed. “It would be unfair of me to sacrifice the gains we have made –“

“What?” Dean snorted, “What gains?”

“Sam’s soul.”

And, okay, he had a point there. Getting Sam’s soul back trumped whatever they might have had going. Getting Sam’s soul back trumped _everything_.

“So – what now, Cas?” He tugged once at Cas’ coat when he didn’t answer immediately, trying to shake him up just a little, crack through the damned silence and composure. “Don’t do that bullshit with me, Cas.”

“I have never asked you for anything Dean.”

 _You asked me to save the world_ , Dean thought; but Cas knew that already. Instead, he pulled on Cas’ coat again, felt relieved, almost vindicated, when Cas leaned in, watching him.

"I don't know how to do this, Cas." Up close, Cas' eyes were - God - so blue. Dean could barely stand to meet them; it felt like looking at the sun.

"I've found that the mechanics are relatively simple."

"That's not..."

“I know,” Cas put a hand on Dean’s face, stroked his thumb along his jaw; Dean could hear the scrape of stubble on skin deep inside his head. “I know.”

Dean had never kissed another guy, he’d never even thought about it. Cas’ stubble scratched his cheeks and his lips were chapped, and the slip of his tongue tasted weirdly neutral, like ice water – or maybe holy water.

He cupped the back of Dean’s neck when they broke apart, mumbling right up against his mouth, “I should go.”

“Yeah,” and damned if Cas didn’t actually look apologetic about it this time. At least he was getting a goodbye. “You do that.”

“I will return – as soon as I able.”

Dean cracked a smile, “I know.”

The first translucent rays of sunlight were coming in through the gaps in the cheap curtains as Dean sat down on the edge of his bed and tried to decide if he could fall back asleep. His skin was buzzing. He felt like maybe he would never sleep again.

-End-


End file.
